Treaty of Hearts
by The Story Siren
Summary: A centuries-old war between the kingdoms of Hungaria and Romani has finally left the two countries struggling to survive. It has forced the nations' leaders to the extremes. How far will the warring nations go to end their feud? What- or who- will be sacrificed along the way? Hungary x Romania, Hungary x Austria, Hungary x Prussia. Rated "M" for future chapters. *Giggle* :3
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hey, guys. This is my first ever non-oneshot Hetalia fanfic story. I'm super excited for this because I have SO many awesome ideas for this story. I'm hoping you all will follow me on this amazing adventure and give me lots of feedback and suggestions for my writing. I can't wait to see how it goes. :) So without further ado, here is the first chapter of Treaty of Hearts. Enjoy! :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or the Characters involved. V.V Sadly.**

* * *

The Kingdom of Hungaria was in turmoil. The age-old war against the neighboring kingdom of Romani had drained the nation's treasury dry and reduced its population by nearly two thirds over the past century. The ancient feud had finally reduced the land to a wasteland of destruction and death. The only aspect of their devastating situation that brought the people any solace was that their enemies were suffering just as greatly as they were. Romani, although its finances were in a better place than that of Hungaria, was suffering from a severe population decline. Although both sides were facing the downfall of their nations, neither were willing to surrender to the other, yet neither had yet to gain the upper hand in the war. Facing the threat of the extinction of their people, both kingdoms now must make difficult choices to ensure the survival of their culture, and their victory in the war. And that is where our story begins….

* * *

Bright sunlight streamed through the large windows adorning the far wall of the chamber, shining directly on the face of the sleeping woman in the nearby bed. Soon enough, her eyes fluttered open, only to shut again when faced with the aspect of morning. Groaning, the young female turned over gracelessly and ducked her head beneath her pillow, effectively blocking out the sun's rays. Her escape was short-lived, however, as a maid entered the chamber and crossed to the large bed, reaching across the silken sheets and removing her source of protection from her grasp.

At her mistress's whine of protest, the elderly maid shook her head scornfully and drew back the covers. "Now, now, Lady Elizabeta. A proper lady does not lounge about in bed all day like a slovenly heathen. It is time for you to wake up and prepare for the day."

Elizabeta huffed and slowly sat up, stretching her arms and reveling in the satisfying _pop_ that accompanied them.

The maid merely sniffed indignantly and gave Elizabeta another chiding expression. "A proper lady does not perform such distasteful acts, either."

Elizabeta rolled her eyes and eyed her caretaker, flashing her a grin. "Yes, yes. I know. _A proper lady never does anything, ever. At all." _She said in a teasing voice, earning her yet another chastising look from the elderly servant. "All right, all right. I'm getting up." She surrendered to the older woman's glare, reluctantly emerging from the warmth of her bed and moving behind the dressing screen to be groomed.

Almost immediately, two other maids entered the room and set to work on prepping their mistress for her day. While one set to work on helping Elizabeta into a deep-green, crushed-velvet, long-sleeved gown, the other began to brush through Elizabeta's long brown tresses, taking care to unfurl all of the knots in her hair gently. Finally, the hair was pulled into a delicate updo, the remainder cascading down her back in silken waves.

Elizabeta emerged from behind the screen, and after gaining the approval of her caretaker, the other maids curtsied and excused themselves from the room.

The young woman crossed to the windows of her chambers, her gaze drifting to the distant mountains sprinkling the horizon. "What does my schedule look like for today?" She asked half-heartedly, her voice the epitome of disinterest.

"All of your lessons for today have been canceled, milady." Her caretaker informed, and upon her mistress's questioning gaze, she explained. "Your father has requested your presence, and I have been given the indication that the subject he wishes to discuss with you is of great importance."

Her interest roused, Elizabeta nodded and turned to the older woman. "When is my audience with my father?" She asked.

"I was instructed to escort you to the meeting hall after breakfast." The elderly maid replied.

"I see. I am ready to go to breakfast now, then." Elizabeta announced, eager to have her meal and proceed to the meeting hall. If her father wished to discuss something with her that required the cancellation of her lessons for the entire day, it had to be of vast importance.

* * *

Shifting her weight between her feet, Elizabeta waited anxiously outside of the meeting hall. She was dying to go in and find out what her father wished to speak to her about. She knew it had to be something important, and therefore she had a burning desire to know what it was. It wasn't often her father came to her with important matters.

Despite being an only child, Elizabeta grew up feeling inferior in her father's eyes. She knew from her listening to her servants' stories that her father had longed for a son for many years, and upon learning his wife was pregnant had begun to set plans for his "son"'s birth and upbringing. So when Elizabeta had been born, it was no secret her birth had been a disappointment to the Duke. The fact that her mother had died in childbirth gave the Duke yet another reason to dislike his child, despite her attempts to please him. Growing up, Elizabeta had tried to be the son her father wanted, even going so far as to dress in boy's garb and taking sparring lessons- all in an attempt to gain worth in her father's eyes.

However, upon the arrival of her teenage years, her sparring lessons had been discontinued at the head maid's insistence, as well as the prompt removal of her boyish wardrobe. She was no longer allowed to talk however she pleased, nor was she allowed to act any way she wanted. She began rigorous lessons on etiquette and mannerisms, and several tutors were brought in to instruct her in music, dance, needlework, and painting.

Her life became rigid, her days tailored to the mission of sculpting her into the perfect aristocratic lady. Her nights were her only comfort; her dreams her only escape. In her dreams she would imagine herself fighting (and emerging victorious from) a mighty battle, or riding through a forest atop a galloping steed. She would wake in the morning and still feel the weight of a sword at her hip, or the whip of leaves on her bare skin as she blew past them. Then she would come to her senses and realize that she had been dreaming, and she would cry herself back to sleep or until her caretaker came to get her up for the day.

Eventually, the dreams stopped, as did her tears. She learned to simply adapt to her situation, and focus on her lessons. If her father invested so much into tutors and instructors in a desire for her to be a lady, then so be it. Since she couldn't make him proud as a son, she would do so as a daughter.

Her father, in time, had come to accept her as his child, though he always spoke to her in a distant manner. It was almost as if he wished he were speaking to someone else, but did not possess the gall to voice his dislike of her presence. Despite his treatment, Elizabeta remained obedient, respectful, and loyal to her father. And now, it seemed, all of her efforts had paid off. According to her caretaker's report, her father was planning on discussing something extremely important with her. Something that, according to the report, could have a tremendous impact on the war against Romani. Her heart swelled with pride at the thought of having earned enough of her father's respect to be trusted with such information.

Breaking from her thoughts, Elizabeta looked up to see her caretaker emerging from the meeting hall. While her face betrayed no knowledge she may have possessed as to what information Elizabeta would be receiving, the old woman's eyes shone with a weird glint Elizabeta could only describe as… remorse? Fear? She didn't have time to question it, though, for the woman gestured for her to enter the meeting hall. Taking a deep breath and holding her head high, Elizabeta nodded once and strode through the heavy-set oak doors, letting them close behind her as she walked, unknowingly, towards her fate.

* * *

**AN: GAHHHHH! What do you all think? OwO I really want to know if I'm doing okay so far. I know it's only the first chapter and almost nothing has happened yet, but hey, if you have some feedback, I'd be more than happy to hear it. In fact, I'd love you forever if you gave me feedback. Like, forever. O_O And ever, and ever, and ever... ANYWAYS, review if you can. 3 I'll try to write and post the next chapter soon. Until then~!**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: The Treaty

Elizabeta's eyes instantly widened as she looked around the meeting hall. Apparently her father wasn't the only person interested in speaking with her. She recognized at least a dozen of the room's occupants as members of her father's council. However….

She noticed that the room seemed divided. Half of the occupants were people she had never seen before, and they were all eying her strangely- almost scrutinizing her. One of the men at the front of the group turned to her father. "Duke Hedevary, is this the one?" he asked, his voice a deep, dark baritone.

Elizabeta watched as her father nodded curtly. "Yes, this is my daughter, Lady Elizabeta Hedevary. She will fulfill the role we discussed earlier." He said, and at that he turned to a clearly confused-looking Elizabeta, and summoned her to his side.

Abandoning her concern over the watchful eyes of the unknown men, Elizabeta crossed the room briskly and curtsied before her father. "You summoned me, father?" She asked, mentally cringing at how submissive she sounded. However, with other nobles present, her snarky comments and tenacious behavior had to be put on hold for the moment.

Duke Hedevary nodded, not bothering to look at his daughter. "Your time has come to prove your usefulness, Elizabeta." He began. "As you know, one of the main roles of a daughter of a noble is to marry into other noble families, strengthening bonds between houses, or even nations."

Elizabeta felt a lump form in her throat- she didn't like where this was going. She kept her mouth shut, knowing the shame she would bring were she to interrupt her father. Inside, however, she was having a battle of wills. Her emotional side was losing it, her desire for freedom going berserk at the thought of being chained down by marital ties. Her logical side was trying to calm her emotional side, as she knew that this was what was expected of her.

_ No! No! NO! They can't DO this to me! They can't make me marry a complete stranger!_

_ I am a woman. I am the daughter of a nobleman. This is how things are. _

_ Screw that! I don't need a man! _

_ I have no say in this. _

_ I'll make them listen to me! _

_ What good will voicing my opinion do? It will only dishonor my father. _

_ Father? He doesn't deserve such an endearing title. No father would do this to his daughter. _

_ It could be worse. _

_ Worse? HA! How could this be worse?! _

_ I could be married to a pauper. At least with this, I am assured a life of luxury and comfort. _

_ I will have no freedom. My life will be forfeit. I will be expected to be a placid wife- a mother. _

_ I will be expected to bear children. _

_ I don't want this!_

_ I have to accept this. For father. For the noble family of Hedevary. _

Eventually, Elizabeta's logical side beat out her emotional side, storing it away for later use. Yes, for now she decided she would hold her tongue. She figured her spouse couldn't be _that _bad.

"…Elizabeta?" Her father's stern voice snapped her out of her mental argument.

"Hmmm…? Oh, yes! Forgive me, Father. I was… otherwise occupied." She apologized.

"Yes… I see. As I was saying, the fine gentlemen you see over here," he gestured to the cluster of unknown men from before, many of whom were still looking over Elizabeta curiously, "are esteemed noblemen from the country of Romani."

Elizabeta froze. "Romani… as in our enemy, Romani? _That _Romani, Father?" She whispered fiercely.

"Elizabeta, these gentlemen are our esteemed guests. As such, I'd expect a noblewoman of the House of Hedevary to treat them with the utmost courtesy. That means showing respect not to whisper in their presence." Her father scolded her coldly.

Elizabeta's face flushed red at her father's harsh dismissal of her and she curtsied to him and the Romani noblemen. "Forgive me." She indulged. "I was out of line. Please continue, Father." She forced out the last line through clenched teeth. Beneath her long sleeves, her hands clenched into tight fists.

Giving his daughter one last glare, her father turned his attention back to their guests. "As I was saying, these gentlemen are noblemen from the country of Romani, sent here as ambassadors by their esteemed Lord, the High Count Popescu, to approach the possibility of a peace treaty between our nations.

"The terms of the peace treaty are simple. In order to ensure that peace lasts, it will involve more than the signing of a mere piece of paper. It will involve something that will solidify permanent relations between our two kingdoms. A marital alliance between prominent figures of the nations." Duke Hedevary finished, watching as his words sunk in and Elizabeta understood what he was getting at.

"So… if the peace treaty requires a marital alliance between the two nations…" Elizabeta trailed off as she realized what that meant for her. Her vision swam as she stood in comprehending silence.

Her father nodded. "You will be escorted by these gentlemen back to Romani, where you will wed a Romani aristocrat and unite our kingdoms." He instructed, his eyes scanning her face for any sign of disobedience or indication she had not heard his words. When he found no traces of protest, he gave a curt nod to the head ambassador, who stepped forward and cleared his throat.

"The Lady Elizabeta shall be married to the High Count Popescu himself." He said. Eyeing Elizabeta warily, he turned to her. "We will give you until tomorrow morning to pack for Romani and bid your loved ones farewell. Then we depart for our kingdom."

Elizabeta nodded and gave a small curtsy before dismissing herself. She waited until she had passed through the heavy oak doors of the meeting hall before she started running.

* * *

She ran as fast as she could, breezing past the concerned faces of her servants without a second thought. She flew down the halls of the castle, tears flowing freely. She didn't stop when one of her heels snapped off, and when she tripped and fell she lurched forward and continued running. She flew through one of the outer doors, flying into the high-walled garden and dashing to her mother's grave. It was there that she finally collapsed, panting heavily and sobbing.

She hugged her knees the best she could, considering her attire, and allowed the sobs to rack her body. She screamed into the folds of her dress, unleashing the hate and the fear and the pain she had bottled up. She beat the dirt with her fists, tore the grass from the ground, and unleashed her fury at the sky.

_Why me? Why?! _She demanded to know. _It's just not fair. I have never had any say in my life. It's supposed to be _my _life. Yet I have no control over it. _

Elizabeta looked over at her mother's gravestone. "Why, mother?" She choked out hoarsely. "Why did you marry such a heartless man?"

Then she remembered her parents' marriage had also been arranged. "Argh! Why did you go through with it?! Why didn't you _fight_ them?!" She buried her face in her hands and cried herself out before curling up beneath her mother's tombstone, exhausted.

She watched as the sun sank below the horizon, and waited as the air grew colder and colder. She was cold, filthy, and tired. Elizabeta sniffled, and tightened her hold on herself. _I'm going to get sick if I don't get warm soon. _She mused. _Maybe I'll get pneumonia and die. _She laughed bitterly at the thought.

"What the hell are you doing, Liz?" A voice called out in the darkness.

Elizabeta struggled to sit up, wanting to find the owner of the voice. But her tired limbs wouldn't move. Soon enough, a pale figure came into her line of sight, red eyes looking down on her questioningly. "Gilbert." She breathed, sighing in relief at the appearance of her best friend.

"Ja. Who else would it be?" He knelt down and lifted her up in his arms, and started walking back to the castle. "What were you thinking, being outside when it's so cold? You look like hell. What happened to you?" He asked.

Elizabeta felt her voice catch in her throat. She decided to answer his question with one of her own. "Why did you come get me?" She asked.

"Well, I was just told everyone was looking for you. Something about you disappearing earlier. Of course, being the awesome me, I immediately knew where you'd run off to. So I decided to come and get you." He finished, but then turned his serious expression back on her. "But Liz, seriously. You only go out there when you're seriously upset. What's going on?"

"Gil, they're… I'm…" She struggled to find the words to tell him what would become of her. "They're making me leave tomorrow."

Gilbert stopped walking. "What? Where? Why?" He demanded.

"I have been instructed to travel to Romani. There, I'll… I'll be wed to the High Count in order to end the war." Her gaze dropped to her hands, her voice laced with bitter acceptance.

"Liz, I…" Now Gilbert struggled to find words, an unusual thing for the talkative albino. He cradled her in one arm, and used his free hand to tilt her chin up so she faced him.

"Gil… What are y-" Her question was silenced by the arrival of his lips on hers. Her eyes grew wide in alarm as she realized that not only was she experiencing her first kiss, but she was doing so with Gilbert, her best friend since childhood and the captain of her father's guard. The kiss was firm, yet gentle, and conveyed all the sadness and regret he held in regards to the news of her leaving.

He pulled away and gave a sad smile. "You know, I've been in love with you for a long time. I would have asked you to marry me one day. I know you're an aristocrat and all, but I still would have done it. Social Ranking be damned." He said.

Elizabeta felt her heart clench painfully. "Gil…" She didn't know how to respond. She had never considered the possibility of a romantic relationship with Gilbert.

"Shh… It's okay. I know. It's hard to imagine someone as awesome as me settling for someone like you…" That did it. He was back to his normal self. She gave him a good-natured slap and laughed loudly.

"Yeah, right. Keep dreaming." She said, chuckling. He sure knew how to pull her out of a foul mood. That's what happened after being friends for 14 years. "Hey, Gilbert," she began, suddenly thoughtful, "do you remember how we first met?"

Gilbert turned his gaze up to the night sky, the moonlight illuminating his pale features as his thoughts turned to the past. "Yeah." He said, turning to her again. "The day I kicked your ass for the first time."

Elizabeta scoffed. "Yeah, right! I totally won that fight!" She argued.

"That's not how I remember it." Gilbert said with a sly smile.

"Then your memory must be as faulty as your undeserved ego!" She said hotly.

"Then what _really_ happened?" He challenged.

* * *

**_14 Years Ago…_**

_ "Hiiiyah! Take that! And that! Aaaand THAT!" Five-Year-Old Elizabeta yelled as she whacked the training dummy with her wooden sword. She was imagining that the dummy was a Romani soldier, the last of a hundred soldiers foolish enough to challenge _her_, the great Iz Hedevary. She had already vanquished the other soldiers, and now only one remained. The fool thought he could finish her off, but she was the greatest warrior in all the land. She raised her sword high, preparing for the killing blow. _

_ "TAKE THIS, ROMANI SCUM!" She yelled, lunging at the dummy. Unfortunately, the training sword she was using was heavier than the one she had used before, and when she raised it above her head, the weight pulled her backwards, and she landed indignantly on her backside. _

_ "Ugh! Stupid sword!" She cursed the wooden blade as she stood, rubbing her rear, disgruntled. Just then, she heard a snort and a chuckle from someone behind her. _

_ She whirled around, sword in hand, to find a young boy staring at her with an amused expression. "You _dare _to sneak up on me?" She demanded. _

_ The boy merely watched her with that same smug look on his face. "Ja, and so what if I do?" He challenged back, his red eyes flashing. _

_ Elizabeta felt her face grow hot. She didn't expect the boy to actually stand up to her. "Then-then I'll… I'll use this sword to teach you your place!" She replied, holding the said weapon before her. _

_ Again, the strange boy didn't back down. In fact, he moved closer, and picked up a spare wooden sparring sword from the wall rack. "Oh ja? I'd like to see you try!" He called to her. _

_ Temper flaring, Elizabeta gave a warrior cry and charged at the boy, her wooden sword poised to strike. The boy merely quirked a brow in amusement and sidestepped, grabbing Elizabeta by the arm and flipping her over. Landing with a loud "Oof!", Elizabeta growled and swiped her leg across the boy's legs, catching him off guard and sending him crashing down beside her._

_ Swords forgotten, they started on a series of punches, kicks, scratches, and even bites. They tumbled over one another, moral fighting codes abandoned in their quest to defeat each other. They fought so long and hard that they ended up moving from the training grounds to a field near the kitchens._

_ "HA!" The boy yelled triumphantly as he pinned her down in the dirt. "Surrender now, and perhaps the awesomeness that is me shall spare y- AHH!" The boy cried out as Elizabeta grabbed his hair and pulled him off of her, flipping their positions so he was now eating the ground. _

_ "Maybe if you spent less time gloating over your so-called 'victory'", she hissed in his ear, "You would actually have enough time to finish your enem-EEP!" She found herself sailing through the air and slamming into a wall near one of the open kitchen windows._

_ Her opponent was instantly on her, pinning her to the wall with a gleeful expression. She clawed at his arms, but the boy was bigger, heavier, and therefore, stronger. Realizing she was losing, she glanced around desperately for anything she could use to help her. A glint of metal caught her eye, and she spotted a frying pan sitting on the windowsill next to her. Following her gaze, the boy spotted the pan as well, but before he could stop her from reaching it Elizabeta seized the handle and swung the frying pan with all of her might. The pan connected with the side of the boys head, and with a sickening thud he fell to the ground, unmoving. _

_ Panting, Elizabeta dropped the pan and sank to her knees next to him. "Wha-what did I tell you?" She gasped out in between breaths. Then she noticed the pool of blood forming around the boy's head. "Oh, no." She gasped, and immediately ran for the castle doctor, screaming for help the whole way. _

_ The next day she would see the boy again, a thick bandage around his head accompanying the many smaller bandages covering his body. She would approach him cautiously, unsure of how he would react to seeing her again. He would see her and crack a joke about their matching bandages, and demand a rematch-no frying pans involved- once their wounds were healed. She would agree, and he would introduce himself as the "Awesome Gilbert". She would introduce herself as "Iz." She would learn he was approaching his eighth birthday, and that his father was the captain of the guard at the palace. It wouldn't be until years later that he discovered her true gender and the identity of her father, but by then the two would be as thick as thieves._

* * *

**_Present Day_**

"Ohh…. _Now _I remember…" Gilbert said, eyeing Elizabeta with a wicked grin. "You _cheated." _

She punched his arm. "I did _not!_" She protested.

"Did too."

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

Punch. Yelp. Surrender.

"Ow! Okay, Okay!" Gilbert gave up, not wanting to subject his arm to more of her blows. He continued walking to the castle, and didn't say anything until they had reached the doors of her bedchamber. "But seriously, Liz. What are you going to do about this situation?" He asked as he set her down on her feet.

Elizabeta's mood instantly soured again. "I guess I don't have a choice." She admitted bitterly. "Those bastards are going to make me marry the Count. 'For the good of the nation'." She said mockingly, a humorless laugh escaping her at the impression of her father's councilmen.

Gilbert gathered her in his arms again and hugged her. "I'm sorry, Liz. If there was anything I could do to stop this… I would in a heartbeat. You know I would." He said, his voice full of empathy and regret.

Elizabeta sighed and hugged him back. "I know, Gil. I know."

Suddenly, the bedchamber doors flew open, and a flustered looking maid appeared at the door. "Oh, mistress Elizabeta! When they said you'd run off, I was so worried! I- mistress?"

Gilbert had broken their embrace upon the arrival of the maid, as their hug could have been interpreted as a romantic gesture. While that wasn't the case, once a servant- particularly a chatty maid- saw such a display, it would be news all over the castle that the two of them were having an affair. And if word of such a thing reached the ears of a councilman, or even the king…

There would be hell to pay. Gilbert's ranking as Master of the Guard, as high as it may have been, did not permit him to engage in such a familiar activity with a lady of Elizabeta's ranking, despite their history together. As such, their friendly gestures had to be done when they were alone together. And so when the maid had flung the doors open Gilbert knew he had a split second to act before she saw what was going on. He pushed Elizabeta off of him, and bowed low to her.

"Here we are, milady. Your chambers. And with this, I bid thee a safe departure tomorrow and blessings upon your marriage." He said before quickly turning on his heel and disappearing down the hall.

Gilbert's hasty departure left Elizabeta feeling lonelier than before. While she understood the reasons why he had to leave and speak to her in the manner he did in the presence of others, she never accepted it. She could only hope that he would find a way to return so they could have a proper goodbye before she left in the morning. Turning to the confused looking maid, Elizabeta gestured to her ruined attire.

"As you can see, Millie, I am quite filthy and in need of a bath. Please see to drawing me one." She said, hobbling into her room. The uneven height of her shoes made walking quite difficult, so she was relieved when another maid arrived and helped her out of her filthy clothes.

She was then escorted to her large washroom, where she sunk gratefully into her steaming tub, the hot water washing away the grime that had accumulated on her skin over the past few hours. Afterwards, she dressed in her cotton nightgown and crawled into bed, exhausted from the day. As she lay beneath her bed's canopy, her gaze drifted around her bedchamber. _This is the last night I'll spend in this room, _she realized remorsefully.

Her last thoughts before she fell asleep drifted to her future husband. _What will he be like? _She wondered. _Will he even want to marry me? Maybe he won't be satisfied with me, and he'll send me back. Maybe he'll love me. Maybe he'll hate me. If he's so rich and powerful, why isn't he married already? Maybe he's really gross, or old, or unattractive. Maybe he's mean and cruel. Well, _she decided firmly as she teetered on the brink of consciousness, _whoever he is, he's in for a big surprise. I won't fall in love with him. Not with someone who's so willing to take someone else's life away from them. I'll never love him. _And with that decided, she fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Sorry for the delay in getting you all the next chapter; it's harder than you'd think to find the time to sit down and write! The good news is that I have all of these awesome ideas for this story, so I won't be facing writer's block anytime soon. The bad news is that the only block I will be facing is that of school interfering with my ability to write and update. However, I am determined to keep this story going strong, my intention being to update at least once a week, if not once every week and a half. So enough prattling on my part, I now give you the next chapter of Treaty of Hearts!**

**Disclaimer: Yaddah Yaddah I don't own anything but the plot and OCs Yaddah Yaddah.**

Chapter 3: Departure and Arrival

The sky was still dark when Elizabeta woke again. Squinting into the darkness, her eyes could barely make out the outline of her caretaker's person as she was roused from her sleep.

"Mistress, it is time to prepare for your departure." The elderly woman said in hushed tones.

"But it's so early!" Elizabeta whined as she struggled to fight off the urge to fall back asleep. "And yesterday father announced a formal send-off would take place in front of the entire capital at our departure _this afternoon_."

"Yes, my lady. A formal send-off _will _take place," her caretaker began quietly, "but you will not be in attendance for it." At her mistress's questioning gaze, she explained. "A decoy party will depart from the castle at the scheduled time. You, however, will be leaving shortly. It is for your own protection."

"Protection?" Elizabeta asked. "I don't understand."

"I'm sorry, my lady, but it is not my place to divulge further information." The servant whispered apologetically. "Once you have safely left the city, I suggest you direct your questions to Lord Alexandrescu. He is the head ambassador of Romani and will most likely accompany you for the length of your journey." And with that, her caretaker helped her out of bed and behind the dressing screen.

Elizabeta was dressed in a thick red traveling gown, perfect for the long journey ahead. Her boots were black, sturdy and- thankfully- without heels. Her hair was pulled back into a simple braid, which was quickly hidden beneath a black travelling cloak and hood. Finally, she donned a pair of slim black leather gloves, which bore the Romani emblem on them. She scowled at the thought of wearing the enemy's national symbol.

_ Not an enemy for much longer. _She reminded herself bitterly. _As soon as I'm married to the Count and the treaty papers are signed, the war is over. _She shook her head at the thought of the way the war would be brought to an end. _A few simple vows will be the end to centuries of bloodshed. Well-_she cringed slightly as she remembered the second condition of the treaty that she had learned of after the initial meeting- _a few simple vows _and _a child. We have to have a child for the treaty to be in full effect. The fighting will stop when we're married. The peace will begin when a child of both nations is born between us._

She considered these events to come as her caretaker led her from her chambers to the stables. There, a Romani guard was waiting for them with a horse prepared to take them to the rest of their party waiting just outside of the city walls.

Taking a deep breath, Elizabeta turned to her caretaker to say goodbye. Although the night was dark, there was enough moonlight shining down on them for Elizabeta to see the tears collecting in the old woman's eyes. Giving the other woman her own watery smile and a reassuring embrace, Elizabeta allowed the Romani guard to help her onto the horse before she turned back to look at the elderly servant. At a loss for words, Elizabeta merely nodded and gave a small wave before the guard started to lead the horse out of the city.

She refused to look back at the castle until they had passed through the city gates, knowing that doing so any sooner would make it _that _much harder to leave. Still, it hurt her heart to see her home for what she knew would probably be the last time. She had no desire to visit her father again, and while she would miss those who had cared for her and tended to her for so many years, she knew that her new position would make it impossible to orchestrate cordial visits between herself and the servants of her father's castle. _That means I'll never see Gilbert again, _she realized as her heart clenched painfully in her chest. _Perhaps I'll be permitted to write to him. _She could only hope that she would be allowed that much freedom.

* * *

Finally, she spotted the rest of their travelling party waiting for them on the road ahead. A large carriage was waiting for her, along with several guards on horseback and a man she immediately recognized as the head ambassador from the meeting hall.

He greeted her with a bow as she dismounted from the horse and approached him. "Lady Elizabeta," he said, his deep voice much warmer than it had been in the meeting hall, "Welcome. I do not believe we have officially been introduced. I am Lord Alexandrescu. I am Romani's head ambassador and a personal advisor to the High Count Popescu, as well as your escort for this venture. I am here to answer any question that you may have- within my jurisdiction, of course." He added with a small smile.

Elizabeta immediately liked this newer side of the man she originally viewed as snobbish and prude. He wasn't pushy, and, although he was a Romani, he seemed to be trying to understand her. She curtsied to him and gave him a small smile. "Thank you, Lord Alexandrescu. I am pleased to make your acquaintance." _That doesn't mean anything, of course_, she added mentally as he helped her into their carriage. _He is still a Romani. _Not allowing that fact to escape her mind, she waited until they began moving before turning to him with her questions.

"So, I _do _have some questions for you." She began, waiting for his invitation to continue.

The man sitting across from her shifted so he faced her, his almond-shaped hazel eyes locking into her own as he smiled and gestured for her to continue. "I will answer what I can." He said.

"Well…" She trailed off, unsure of where to start. "Why don't we start at the beginning? Can you tell me why the Romani proposed this treaty?" She asked.

"I can tell you that, yes." The Romani Lord answered, taking a breath to gather his thoughts before beginning. "What have you been taught of the Romani-Hungarian Wars?" He asked, throwing her off with a question of his own.

"Not a lot." Elizabeta admitted. "Only that they started over four hundred years ago after a dispute between the two rulers of the nations."

"Ahh… I see. Tell me, Lady Elizabeta, do you know what the dispute was about?" He asked. She shook her head, and he proceeded to explain. "You see, centuries ago, Romani and Hungaria were ruled by two powerful nobles. Romani was ruled by the High Count Popescu, of whom my lord- and your future husband- is a direct descendant of. Hungaria was ruled by Duke-"

"Herceg!" Elizabeta exclaimed excitedly. Upon noting her companions bemused expression, she ducked her head and apologized. "My mother was a descendant of his." She explained.

"As I was saying," Alexandrescu continued, "The two lands were ruled by two powerful nobles, each with their own strengths and skills. Both rulers were intelligent, respected, authoritative, well-mannered, dignified and confident. They both possessed admirable skill in combat, as well as the arts. However, they both possessed a weakness. Do you have any idea what it could have been, Lady Elizabeta?" He asked.

"Wealth?" She asked, remembering her own father's incessant fretting over the nation's treasury, always seeking opportunities to increase his fortune.

"That is a wise guess, but both nations were rich in natural resources and possessed a vast ocean of wealth. Their weakness, Lady Elizabeta, was women. Or, to be exact, _a woman._"

"A woman, my lord? You mean to tell me that they fell for the same woman?" She asked, her interest piqued at the dramatic tale that was unfolding.

"Indeed. Princess Sara of Austrine. She came to the two nobles individually, seeking to strengthen the ties between their countries. Both rulers fell in love with her upon their first meeting. Eventually, Duke Herceg made his intent to court the Princess known. This did not bode well with the High Count Popescu, who had intended to announce the very same thing the following day. Naturally, the Princess was flattered by the declarations of love from the two rulers. She had taken the time to get to know both of the noblemen, and found them both to be respectable suitors. The Princess could not decide which proposal to accept. Therefore, the two rulers took it upon themselves to decide for her." The Romani nobleman paused as Elizabeta gave a loud groan.

"Are you telling me that this whole war started over a _woman?_" She asked furiously.

"Yes, but if you would like to hear the rest of it, I suggest you hold all of your comments until the end of the tale." Alexandrescu suggested with a light tone.

"Sorry, Sorry! Please, continue." She urged, settling back into her seat eagerly.

"Where was I? Oh, yes. The two rulers decided that the only way the Princess would be able to decide between the two of them was if she _didn't _decide between the two of them. They surmised that in destroying the other's nation and its people, the Princess would have no choice but to marry the ruler of the stronger nation. However, this plan did not work out in their favor. You see, the two nobles became so obsessed with destroying one another that they neglected their individual relationships with the Princess. By the time they ceased fighting long enough to divert attention to their beloved, the Princess had already married King Harmand, from Austrine's neighboring country of Pruss. When confronted on the subject, the Princess confessed that she would have gladly married either of the men- if only they had stopped fighting one another long enough to see that in hurting each other, they were hurting her as well." He stopped again as Elizabeta raised her hand- a silly gesture, considering that they were in a carriage, and certainly not in any school. "You have a question?" He invited her to ask, an amused smile playing on his lips at her method of interruption.

"You're telling me that this all happened in the span of, what, five years or so?" She began.

"Six years, to be exact, but please continue." He corrected.

"Alright, _six _years, but the war has been going on for almost _five hundred years. _Why would they continue fighting if the main reason they _started _trying to destroy each other did not matter anymore?" She asked.

His smile deepened, a slightly bitter tone lacing his next words. "Ah, well, you see, by that point in time the two rulers had already spent millions of dollars, sacrificed hundreds of thousands of soldiers, and lost thousands of acres of land in their goals to destroy one another. Through the years already spent fighting one another, a new hate between the two had formed, one that ran much deeper than the hate caused by their rivalry over the Princess. When the two rulers learned that the initial prize they had been after- the hand of the Princess- was no longer able to be fought for, the nobles had accumulated such a hatred of one another that they declared the two countries of Romani and Hungaria to be at war. The children of the nations were raised with a prejudice against the other country. Romani children were taught to hate children of Hungaria, and children of Hungaria were taught to hate Romani children. And so the cycle continued throughout the centuries, neither side willing to admit defeat. As a result of the two nations' stubborn pride, both kingdoms are suffering greatly. What used to be two powerful empires are now two hollow shells of what could have been the most powerful forces in the world.

"Recently, Romani officials were called to a war conference at the estate of Romani's ruler, the esteemed High Count Popescu. The Count announced, to the shock of everyone, that the time had come to end the feud between the two nations. He argued that the treasuries of both kingdoms would soon be obliterated by the increasing demand for funding for the war effort. He also made a point that the populations of both countries were low enough that the people would soon be faced with inbreeding- a most distasteful act- if they wanted to survive. In order to prevent both of these scenarios from occurring, the Count proposed a solution, one that would not only end the war, but encourage relations between the peoples of the two nations." He looked at Elizabeta expectantly.

"The marriage." Elizabeta finished for him.

"Correct." The Lord said, nodding. "He said himself, 'This whole war _started_ with the prospect of marriage, so it is only fitting that it ends with one.' My Lord is most eager to end this war, Lady Elizabeta. Not only for the sake of Romani and its people, but for Hungaria as well. I know you may not think very highly of us, being raised with the mindset you were, but please try to keep an open mind when you arrive in Romani. We are humans, too." And with that, he concluded his response to her question. "Is there anything else I can answer for you?" He asked.

Elizabeta sat there for a moment, considering the nobleman's last words. He seemed to know that she distrusted them, and understood her hesitation towards meeting other Romani citizens. She didn't quite know how to respond to his last words, so she decided to change the subject. "What is the High Count like?" She asked, watching as Alexandrescu smiled warmly at her question.

"Curious, are you? It is understandable." He said.

"I suppose I am, considering I am currently travelling towards a new kingdom in order to marry a man I have never met before. I believe any woman would have a natural interest in the man she is expected to share her life-" _And her bed, _She added mentally, "-with."

This response seemed to strike Alexandrescu dumb for a moment, before he gave a deep chuckle that sent vibrations through Elizabeta's bones. "You certainly have quite the spirit, do you not, Lady Elizabeta? I am sure my Lord will be quite… invigorated." He laughed again before speaking again. "To answer your question, my Lord is much like his predecessor, the first High Count Popescu. He is quite advanced in math, literature, combat and the arts. He is charismatic, yet poise. Empathetic, yet unforgiving. Mysterious, yet inspiring. Confident, dignified, skilled… Forgive me, Lady Elizabeta, but should I continue, I believe I would talk through the remainder of our journey."

Elizabeta nodded and gave her companion a genuine smile, the first of many she assumed he would receive. "I can tell that you think very highly of your Lord. I will try to keep your words in mind upon my first encounter with him." _He may sound like the perfect man, but I know there must be some flaw in the Count's character- whether it may be a psychological or psychical flaw... That's_ it!_ He must be aesthetically offensive. Why else would this man not already be married? _"What does he look like?" She inquired, attempting to keep her voice derived of any emotion that would indicate she had already realized he was unattractive.

Instead, she received another chuckle and a smile. "Are you concerned as to the state of his person? I assure you, Lady Elizabeta, that my Lord is quite appealing to the eyes. Or so I have been told by the ladies of the court." He added upon receiving a questioning look from the woman across from him.

_ Ugh. This Count sounds perfect. But any man- or person, for that matter- who is willing to rip someone away from everything and everyone they've ever known for the sake of some treaty is far from perfect in my book. _She affirmed mentally.

"Is there anything else you wished to ask, Lady Elizabeta?" Alexandrescu inquired, breaking into her thoughts.

"Hmm? Oh, no, thank you. I was just-" Elizabeta's next words were cut off as she stifled a yawn behind her leather-clad hand.

"You must be tired. I should have known. You did have to wake pretty early in order for us to depart on schedule. You should rest for a while." He offered. "We are not scheduled to cross into Romani for another day or so."

"All right. Will you wake me in a few hours?" Elizabeta asked. "I do not care to sleep for long in the presence of others."

Alexandrescu dismissed her claims with a wave of his hand. "It is no bother to me. You will need rest for the events to come. However, I will agree to wake you if something occurs or when it is time to eat."

Nodding, Elizabeta leaned back in her seat and shut her eyes, allowing the soft rocking of the carriage to lull her to sleep.

* * *

They crossed into Romani two days later. Due to the sudden arrival of a storm during the second half of the day, their progress towards the High Count's castle had been greatly hindered. It wasn't until they had reached the Romani-Hungaria border that the storm let up, allowing them to continue forward towards the Romani capital.

Elizabeta leaned her head against the glass pane of the carriage, watching as the Romani landscape drifted by. "How much farther?" She asked for what seemed to be the hundredth time.

The Romani Lord sitting across from her, with whom she had engaged in pleasant conversation with over the past few days, answered for the hundredth time. "At the rate we are travelling currently, we should arrive at the High Lord Popescu's castle in another day or so."

As always, Elizabeta would groan at the thought of being stuck inside the carriage that long, and Alexandrescu would lightly scold her for her impatience. Then she would strike up a conversation with him over nothing of importance, and he would engage in the exchange, if not for the sole purpose of keeping her distracted from the time it was taking to reach the castle.

* * *

"Lady Elizabeta?" Alexandrescu called, rousing the sleeping woman from her midmorning nap.

"Hmmm?" Was the only reply he received.

"We are approaching the castle. I would advise you to prepare yourself for our arrival."

"We're there?!" Elizabeta cried, immediately waking.

Alexandrescu held back a laugh at the sudden display of energy from the once-listless woman. "Nearly there." He corrected her, watching with further amusement as she started fidgeting in her seat, eager to be free of the carriage they had taken residence in for the past three days.

Their journey had not been uncomfortable. They stopped now and again in different villages they passed for baths and bathroom breaks, and always had food on hand whenever they were hungry. The carriage was plush and very comfortable to ride in, enough that they were able to sleep in the carriage. This eliminated further stops at inns and such, and allowed them to reach their destination that much quicker. Despite these conditions, Alexandrescu had to admit that he, too, shared the Lady's enthusiasm for leaving the carriage. His attention was drawn back to the woman sitting opposite of him as he heard her gasp loudly.

"I see the castle! It's… _breathtaking._" Despite her reluctance in taking residence at a Romani estate, Elizabeta couldn't help but gaze in awe at the magnificence of the High Count's castle.

The castle soared high above the buildings and residences of the capital city. The midnight black stone stood in a striking contrast to the brightness of the sky around it. The tall towers and pointed roofs gave off an eerie and gothic feeling, one that would have made anyone hesitant to enter its confines. There was no question as to the amount of work put into its construction. It was clear that this massive estate had taken decades, if not centuries, to construct, and the cost of its construction must have been monumental.

As if he had read her thoughts, Alexandrescu said "This castle was originally built when Romani was founded, under the orders of the first High Count Popescu. It has been in the Popescu family for centuries. A true trademark to their surviving lineage."

"It is quite impressive." Elizabeta admitted. _And I'll be living there. _She thought with a bitter smile. _At least my cage is a nice one._

At last, their carriage pulled in through the city gates, and started its final trek towards the castle. As they passed through the different rings of the city, Elizabeta couldn't help but notice that the houses and buildings grew in size and quality the further into the city they travelled. Finally, they reached the castle walls, and after a brief inspection by the guards, they made their way down the castle drive. Pulling to a stop before the main doors of the castle, Elizabeta could barely contain her eagerness to exit the carriage. Alexandrescu exited first, and extended his hand to her. Taking the offered appendage, Elizabeta allowed herself to be assisted in exiting the carriage.

The moment she felt her feet touch the ground, Elizabeta allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief. _No more carriage for me. _She thought. The realization was both a comfort and a sad truth. The bridge between her homeland and her new home was gone. She watched as the carriage pulled away and out of sight, a pang of remorse flooding through her. She said a silent goodbye to the ferry of her old and new lives before turning back to Alexandrescu.

He arched a brow in question, and she nodded. Understanding it as a sign that she was ready to enter, he guided her up the stone steps to the main entrance of the castle, where two servants opened the doors for them.

Elizabeta took a deep breath, and crossed over the threshold of her new life.

* * *

**AN: That ending... was eh. I didn't quite know how to end it, but I DID know that I didn't want to introduce Roro (As "Another observer of the world" called him) until the next chapter. For those of you who didn't read what I just said, Romania WILL be in the next chapter. So stay tuned and review, review, review! If you find any grammatical errors, or any errors at all, please feel free to let me know. :) Thank you all!**


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